


CONSEQUENT

by Vivacitii



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst and Humor, Drama, Pre-Undertale, Psychological Drama, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Suspense, Undertale Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivacitii/pseuds/Vivacitii
Summary: At the heart of the matter, Dr. W.D. Gaster - Royal Scientist to the Crown of Monsterkind - truly is invested in assuring the wellbeing and future of his people.  How he goes about achieving these advancements, however, is a different issue entirely.
After all - the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, is it not?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: UNDERTALE and the characters presented therein are the brilliant creations of Toby Fox; this is simply my interpretation of them. All original characters presented in this work belong to me. If you haven't played the game yet, I strongly encourage you do so - there will be heavy spoilers in this story, and I wouldn't want to ruin your experience of the game! :)
> 
> Author's Note: Like most people, I had many lingering questions after I played Undertale. So…so many questions. For instance: how does Sans know so much? What is Chara's deal? How did those soul containers come to be? That Grillby fellow – what in the world is his story?
> 
> And who the heck is Dr. W.D. Gaster?
> 
> After many discussions, long bouts of theorizing with some wonderful writers, and a year of musing over potential character connections and backstories – this narrative was created! Of course, I know this is just one prequel of many, but I do hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed developing it! This story is just my way of giving back to a community that has given so much to me.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

 

* * *

 

**=o0o=**

**|| Prologue: The End. ||**

**=o0o=**

 

* * *

 

 **…**  

The high of death was extraordinary.

It slowed time; the feeling of the air rushing past him, growing ever hotter and hotter around his plummeting form…ceased.  All motion _stilled_.  Weightless, frozen in the final moments of contemplation, the final moments of conscious existence, he remained fully aware of the fate charging at his back, of the catalyst that was far above him - looking down.  Until now, he had neither noticed the wetness upon his face nor the sharp pain blossoming in his chest spreading throughout his ribcage.  A similar wetness was seeping through his coat, flecks of red falling, falling, falling with him into the churning, boiling miasma of his creation below.

_If, then._

And it was as if he was simply suspended in midair, pitched upside down, staring back up at the ledge from which he had fallen. From this position he could clearly observe the precious drops of his portended undoing, the fleeting, crimson trail that marked the end of his mortality. His mouth remained open in a cry, eyes wide in ultimate shock, yet he could hear no sound - for the silence of the moment's finality was commandeering his senses. Perhaps he was not screaming; perhaps there _was_ no sound.

The gravity of it all was…overriding.

From that ledge the assailant peered down, an outstretched hand – an impulsive gesture, it seemed – extended in a foolish attempt to pluck him from the air. This, of course, was utterly futile. There was no ultimatum. He had destroyed himself long, _long_ before this moment.

Had he not been about to die in a blazing inferno of energy, he may have even laughed. 

It was just so. very. _typical_.

But in that moment _he_ was reaching as well: futility, pride, station, all of that meaningless at Death’s door.

And nothing, _nothing_ could be done.

There was no checkmate, no victory on either side. After having so meticulously arranged all of his pieces, he had lost track of whose turn it was, of where he had placed the King. The pawns, the rooks, the knights…they had blended together, the specific players scattered across the board no longer holding individuality or sides but morphing into a conglomerate that was wholly and treasonously against him.

He had willfully clad himself in black and white and every color in between – a clandestine camouflage of deceit…and disillusionment.

His body was already growing numb, the searing heat of what was approaching dominating his finer senses of touch. Whether it was because of the pain in his chest or the extreme temperature behind him, he could not tell, but he could see tendrils of ashen smoke curling from the fingertips of his outstretched hand.

Flames and electricity licked at his back, and he made eye contact with the figure above. Though now far below, his hand, smeared with red, continued to reach and reach and reach, his vision straining to fixate on any form of detail... Then, very suddenly, it was as if a heavy fog was lifted from the murk and mire of his tortured mind, and an abrupt lucidity descended upon him, the likes of which he had not experienced for months, if not _years_.

You see, when the destruction of existence is impending, when the fall into oblivion is imminent…Mind and Determination have a way of facilitating a terminal attempt at broken, _desperate_ clarity.

He breathed.

_Life…is a hypothesis with multiple outcomes…_

The heat intensified. His hand was disintegrating.

_Determined by—_

_By—_

_…._

No words would reach before…

A hot, white light seared the corners of his vision.

_Hope is…is— I…_

Dr. Gaster had learned…

_He…had l_

_…_


End file.
